Earlier this week, Jeff and I set out on a road trip to Iuka, Mississippi, to spend Christmas with my family. As we navigated out of Houston, Texas, we took the 99 East toll road to reach I-59—a route we don’t travel often. Along that stretch of toll road, we were struck by how much construction and how many new buildings were going up.
What once were open fields and trees are now being cleared to make room for “progress.” Seeing this makes both Jeff and me feel sad. We think about the deer and other wildlife that once lived there, now pushed into smaller and smaller spaces. We also find ourselves wondering: does Houston really need more strip malls, more stores, more retail? It feels unnecessary. Like too much.
You can feel the stress in the constant push for more. More growth. More expansion. More productivity. It never seems to be enough. That steady chaos creates a life with little room for rest, and over time, it becomes exhausting.
As we get further away from Houston and closer to Iuka in the 12 hour drive, the landscape begins to change. The land opens up. Houses sit farther back from the road. Fences stretch across fields holding horses or cows. And beyond what I can see, something else shifts—my body begins to relax. My breathing slows. Without realizing it, I’ve been holding tension.
Jason Shepperd, pastor at Church Project often says, “life is the balance of holding the tension between blessings and burdens.” This may sum up what I’ve been tangibly feeling, holding the tension between blessings and burdens and the big city can often feel tipped toward burdensome for me.
It’s important to acknowledge that living in a small town doesn’t eliminate stress. People in places like Iuka still work hard, carry responsibilities, and worry about the same things we all do. Life in the United States often feels hurried and demanding, regardless of where you live.
What feels different is the environment. A slower pace doesn’t demand the same urgency. There are fewer reminders to rush, consume, or compete. Even when life feels overwhelming, the surroundings don’t add another layer of noise.
I’m not saying one place is better than the other. Cities like Houston offer opportunity and energy. Small towns offer quiet and space. But they ask different things of us, and our bodies seem to know the difference.
As we near Iuka, my shoulders drop and my breath deepens. The noise fades. Maybe progress doesn’t always mean adding more. Maybe sometimes it looks like slowing down—and remembering that enough really is enough.
As 2025 comes to a close this week, I encourage you to take a few moments and take inventory of your life. Where can you eliminate hurry and stress for the new year?
Is it clearing out physical stress in your home, like re-organizing a closet or garage?
Is it eliminating financial stress by choosing to buy less in the new year?
Is it taking stock of your relationships? Choosing to spend more time with those that bring you energy versus those that may drain your energy?
Is it creating a new or improved habit of going to the well of your Heavenly Father, John 4:14? Spending quiet time with Him? Praying more? Reading scripture?
Is it decluttering your electronic life? Deleting apps? Turning off notifications? Cleaning up your inbox and unsubscribing?
Or is it something else?
This is an opportunity to say in 2026, “less is more”.
For more ideas on creating margin in your life, Finding 1 Hour of Silence Each Week.
